


Cat on the moon

by metawohoo



Series: Hook, line and sinker [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Mentor/Protégé
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-29 15:26:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3901345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metawohoo/pseuds/metawohoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Finale spoilers, takes place at the beginning of episode 22</em><br/>A street kid meets a mob boss, and it turns out they get along very well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Selina was back on the streets.

It wasn’t that she didn’t have a place to go back to. She did. But staying at Barbara’s while the woman was in the hospital wasn’t like, say, squatting her abandoned flat. It just felt wrong. Ivy didn’t mind - Ivy didn’t care about much anymore - so she had stayed there. Cat, though… One morning, she’d been arguing with Barbara over make up and silly shoes and fancy dresses, getting her eyebrows plucked, her legs waxed, her hair stabbed with golden hairpins. Barb’ had been grinning at the door when Bruce came by to collect her. The blonde had been both amused and _proud_ , even a bit _happy_. She’d been trying to get Ivy and Cat into princess clothes for weeks now and, man, did she like to _fuss_ over them. Ivy’s hair had gone through endless braiding experiments, and the kid had acquired a wardrobe’s worth of foliage themed clothing. And the dresses Bruce’s butler had sent…

«That Alfred Pennyworth has taste», Barbara had said, examining the fluffy horrors Selina had been expected to wear. «They are lovely.»

«I don’t think you can _sit_ in any of those.»

«Let’s be honest, sweetie, I’ve yet to see you sit. You crouch, you climb, you pace, you stalk, but you don’t exactly stay in place.»

«I’m not going to do any crouching, or climbing or whatever, looking like an upturned tulip.»

«I should hope so. Which one do you prefer? I think the pink one is the cutest.»

Selina had gagged at the word, rolled her eyes, and tried the pink dress on.

Five hours later, Barbara had been gone, to never come back.

It had been a long evening and - as always with Bruce - it had come with very fun parts and very aggravating parts. Like being sermoned about _saving both their lives_ by pushing that Payne guy out of that window. «You’re such a bad person for having the guts to take the hard decisions. Maybe we could have asked him nicely not to sell us to Bunderslaw. Then we could have ridden off into the sunset on our winged unicorns and stuff». Did he think she had _liked_ killing the man? Sometimes, you didn’t have a _choice_.

She had gone back to Barbara’s place and slipped into her own clothes (more importantly, into her own shoes). Then she had spent half an hour watching CSI reruns, idly waiting for Barb’ to return so she could rant about her feet and how no one could pee in that stupid dress, and how that ‘charity’ gala was going to throw away tons of perfectly good food from that buffet.

Then Jim had arrived, and shown her that shitty drawing of «every guy ever». From the look on the cop’s face, something had been very, very wrong. The man on that drawing might _not_ have been the one Barbara had left the ball with, but what were the odds? If someone had been after her… So Cat had said she thought it was, and Jim had grilled her on everything, from the man’s looks to the time Barbara had left with him, and anything she might have noticed about him. She had tried to ask her own questions, but Gordon hadn’t bothered replying. If he had, he would not have walked out of the apartment with his balls.

Selina had discovered the details in the newspapers. The Ogre, who killed the people close to the cops who investigated him. Who had not gone after Barbara because she was rich, or because she was pretty, but because once upon a time, Jim Gordon had dated her, and he had _forgotten about that_. He had not warned her, he had not protected her. But then again, he sucked at his job. He sucked at _thinking_. Selina had done a better job protecting herself and Bruce than he had. And, because he couldn’t have been bothered to at least _warn_ Barb’ that the hot guy she went home with for a one night stand might be a serial killer, the lady had watched her parents die.

It was bad enough when the cops came to knock on your door to tell you «sorry, kiddo, your ma’ hanged herself». Having to see one’s parents die… Well, it had done Bruce no good, had it? Selina still had nightmares of his screaming. Not of his folks being shot, no, of that. It was the «Mom! Mom! Dad! Dad!». And then that scream.

As if murdering Barb’s parents wasn’t bad enough, the Ogre was the kind of sicko who kept girls for months before killing them. Selina knew what _that_ meant.

If Gordon had not been busy with the whole gang war situation, Selina would have tracked him down to give him a piece of her mind.

She had sneaked into Gotham General’s psych ward to check on Barb’, several times, but the woman was always either talking to doctors or to cops, and when she wasn’t, she was passed out with tranquilizers. So the girl was waiting for her to be sent home, and avoiding the apartment and the memories of a smiling Barbara telling her to have fun at the ball. She had a feeling she would not see that person again.

Instead, she stayed in the streets, snatching food and listening to rumors of a newcomer in town, some gang leader who was gathering street kids and hobos, giving them shelter and guns if they agreed to join her «family». Someone who said the working girls would no longer be expected to service every Mafia bastard who ordered them too. Someone who promised the kids would have roofs over their heads, and protection against child protective services and the «adoptive parents» the kids might be sold to. Stupid, obvious lies. It was like listening to Mayor James’ speech about «though-love programs» and «the loving arms of juvenile services».

Selina believed none of that crap.

Then, she met Fish.

 

###


	2. Chapter 2

When you heard ‘new gang leader in town’, you usually thought ‘gun-toting maniac’. You didn’t expect the whole rowboat, lanterns, mysterious hooded figure act. You didn’t expect the… ‘Poise’, and the ‘allure’. Those were the words. If anyone else had pulled that crap, Selina would have laughed in their faces. «A rowboat, really? And is the fancy lighting supposed to impress us?». But the woman had that _something_ , that aura of absolute confidence, that belief in herself that was not only convincing but contagious. No one else could have gone for cryptic lines like «it will be morning soon, a brand new day» without looking ridiculous, but she was _special_.

And the eyes. The eyes were _something else._

Still, Selina wasn’t big on authority figures and organized crime. She let the woman walk away with her men, studying her from afar. Cat wasn’t the only one watching, either. Eyes turned on the lady’s way, every kid and hobo around mesmerized. She was a slip of a woman, barely taller than Selina, yet she was larger than life. She stood next to her burly, armed henchmen and _they_ looked small. Cat knew all about bravado, and getting bigger, meaner people to back off. She could face a thug with a knife, mock him, taunt him, threaten him, alright. But she was always _afraid_ underneath, and she knew it showed. When those thugs walked away, she knew it was because they didn’t want the bother. That hooded lady would have scared them into running.

Little by little, kids started following her, then adults, until the woman felt she was surrounded by enough of a crowd to start talking.

«There is war in the streets», she said. «Carmine Falcone and Salvatore Maroni are fighting for the control of the city that neither of them _deserves._ On one side, you have Don Falcone, who can’t wait for the prettiest of you girls to be forced on a street corner, where you can be racketed by pimps that all report to _him_. Maroni wants to either sell you drugs or get you to deal them. And both of them - _both of them_ \- only want to use you either as merchandise or cannon fodder. I say it’s time to stop cowering under their rule. It’s time to to take the city back!»

The other kids were gullible enough to fall for that recruiting speech. The adults were so desperate they would have sold their firstborns to be helped. They needed a reality check. No one came forward to speak sense, however, so Selina edged closer. The woman’s eyes instantly snapped to her and followed her approach. The teenager lifted her chin and put a hand on her hip.

«So you want us to be cannon fodder for _you_ instead, is that it?»

The woman smiled, unfazed.

«Yes. If you so desire.»

There were murmurs in the crowd. Some of the kids shifted away.

«The city is at war», the woman continued. «Of course, I will need soldiers. Some of them will die. I cannot promise survival: war does not work that way. But what I can promise is that whoever decides to fight by my side will be aware of the danger. You will know what you sign up for. And if you do not want to _fight_ , I’m ready to extend my help all the same. I’ll provide shelter to the youngest and weakest. I’ll provide food and, more importantly, _protection_.»

Selina snorted.

«What’s the catch?»

«Who says there is one?»

« _Nothing_ costs _nothing_. So what do you want? What do you gain?»

That got the lady to join her, in slow, quiet steps, then to study her face. She was still smiling.

«I grew up around here. In the Narrows. One room apartment, derelict, but still much better than many people’s lot. Then my Ma died, and I was on the streets for a long time. Do you know what it taught me?»

Cat shrugged, uneasy. She wasn’t going to win this argument. There was no rattling that mobster.

«I taught me that no one would come to help me», the woman replied. «It taught me that what safety I wanted, what power I wanted, I had to fight for on my own, tooth and nail. And I clawed my way to the top, but I did not forget how it felt to sleep in the gutter, to freeze and to starve, and to have _nothing_ but tenacity and faith.»

Her striking, mismatched eyes did not leave Selina’s. They pinned the girl into place, sure that the woman saw right through her, could read her thoughts. So, she clenched her jaw.

«Yeah, doesn’t look like you’re at the top right now.»

«I had a temporary setback. Which gives me an excellent opportunity to aim for higher. Not only that: this time, I actually have the resources to help other people up.»

Selina frowned. All of that, the ‘setback’, the ‘previously on top’, the willingness to go easy - but not too much - on the unfortunate… It was very similar to a well-known mob boss who had been run out of town a few months before. One who had ruled over the Theater District, a slip of a black woman with over the top clothing and the guts to try to take Falcone out.

«Who _are you_ , lady?»

The mobster’s smile grew larger.

«My friends call me Fish.»

_Holy crap._

She was _Fish Mooney._ Selina defaulted to defiance, unfortunately, so her next words were not very wise.

«Well, I’m not your friend, am I?»

«Then you can call me ‘Miss Mooney’, but I’d rather prefer ‘Fish’. I like you, girl. You’re sharp.»

Cat shrugged again. Being liked by a crime lord was asking for trouble.

«Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. What I am for sure is ‘out of here’», she answered, backing away. «Good luck with your recruiting, lady. You’ll need it.»

And she walked away, as calmly as she could, listening for the sounds of automatic guns being loaded. All she heard was Fish Mooney’s chuckle.

 

###


	3. Chapter 3

Fish Mooney didn’t need luck, in the end. She had a way with words.

Cat had followed her from afar for four days, perching on low roofs and in trees to listen to her speeches. Everything she said about living in the streets rang true. She was not just giving you sound bites of freezing, rainy nights spent shivering in some dark alley, of dumpster diving, of panhandling and being treated like dirt by the rest of the world. She told you of being eleven and sleeping in the attic of an abandoned house, buried in a nest of discarded furniture, because there was not a single safe place in Gotham, and not seeing anyone around didn’t mean you wouldn’t get robbed or raped by some bastard who found you asleep. She told you about waking to the sounds of tweakers in the room just below you, and spending hours on end not moving, not breathing, praying for the band of adults to go away without finding you and the twenty dollars left to your name. She told you of stuffing your panties with toilet paper and hoping not to bleed all over your one pair of pants, when you couldn’t steal tampons or pads. She told you of doing _anything_ you had to do to survive, of swallowing the guilt and shame, because when life did not give you a choice, you could not afford weaknesses such as remorse. She didn’t talk about whoring herself, but from the way she clenched her teeth when some of the girls confessed to that, Cat wondered what her story was.

She heard it on the third day, when one of the women she had recruited mentioned being a hooker and considering suicide over it.

«There’s no shame in selling yourself, Kate», Fish Mooney told her. «My _mother_ was a prostitute. Would I _ever_ think less of her for that? No. She was _strong_. She did what she had to do to put food on the table, to live another day. The ones I despise, the ones who are worthless, despicable _swine_ are the men who would pay for her services. Pathetic animals masquerading as men, who would not deserve to be spit on if they were on fire. What _you_ did was take advantage of their faults and give yourself the means not freeze or starve in those streets.»

Selina’s mom had been in ‘show business’. She ‘sang’ and ‘danced’ and did ‘magic tricks’ that involved vanishing clothes, and one-dollar bills, and maybe more (Cat did not want to think about that). She was not _really_ a secret agent for the government, though it would have been so much better than a dead stripper with a small, unmarked grave in the Narrows’ cemetery.

The girl could relate to everything Fish said.

She kept spying. Every now and then, Fish Mooney would look straight at her, and smile, and wave. Cat scampered.

When she didn’t spy on the new ‘family’, she wandered the roofs - the streets were not safe, with the gang war - and she dropped by Barbara’s place to check on Ivy. The food there was running scarce anyway, save for Barb’s endless supply of cereal. Selina routinely brought back some fresh fruits and vegetables (because Ivy couldn’t just be homeless and hungry, no, she had to be a _vegan_ ). She was climbing on the balcony with a few oranges, tomatoes, and broccoli, when she smelled Barb’s perfume, as well as the aroma of cooking pastry.

The teenager ran into the apartment.

«Barbara?»

The blonde was in the kitchen with Ivy, and turned to Cat with a perfect Stepford wife smile. It chilled Selina, but Barb’ had always been big on the facade and stuff, when she was sober. The girl _had_ read the news. There was no way the woman was anywhere near ‘okay’ after what she had been through, but maybe pretending things were fine helped.

«Welcome back, Selina. You’re just in time. I was about to start with the pancakes. How have you been?»

Cat shrugged and took a seat next to Ivy.

«Okay, ‘n’ you?»

She snatched a few cookies and munched on them, observing Barb, who was mixing eggs and flour into a large bowl. There was a thin, faint pink line on her throat, where the Ogre had cut her. There would be no scar, or barely. Those plastic surgeons knew their job.

«I’m fine», Barbara said. «Do you prefer maple syrup or strawberry jam?»

Selina exchanged a glance with Ivy, who wrinkled her nose. There was something amiss there. Something in Barbara’s sing-song tone, something in the way she held herself, something in her eyes - or, to be more precise, a lack of it. It was Barb’, but it _wasn’t._ The girls had lived with her for a while. They knew her. Sober, she was all proper and maybe a bit bitchy and miserable. Drunk… Well, she was a mean drunk, and bitter, so Selina had made it a mission to dilute her wine with tap water (rather than just hiding it, which would only have annoyed the woman and gotten her to buy more). She had been depressed, and you could see it even with the posturing and the smiles and the ‘I am a lady’ attitude. Here… The air around her felt tense and _wrong_. Selina picked up on things like that, like when Ivy’s mood bordered on malice, when she talked about her father and how he had been framed. Ivy was creepy and angry and damaged, and Barbara…

Yeah. Barbara kind of had that vibe about her.

Selina had to wait for Ivy to be asleep to confront the woman. In the meantime, she took a long, warm shower, washed her clothes, and lounged on the balcony. Barbara busied herself with cleaning and rearranging the apartment. She didn’t drink. She barely talked.

«How are you feeling? I mean, how are you _really_ feeling?» Cat asked half an hour after Ivy had gone to bed.

Barbara turned to her with a faint, tense smile.

«I’m well. I’m fine. You don’t have to pretend to be worried, sweetie.»

 _That_ was a slap in the face.

«I’m not _pretending!_ »

«If you say so. Anyway, I’m fine. Happy to be alive. It wasn’t as bad as the press made it sound.»

Cat gaped at her. Yeah. That was a big fat lie. If Barb’ believed it, she wasn’t right in the head. _Maybe she’s just trying not to worry you_ , the girl thought. But she knew that was a vain hope.

«Yeah, uh… You know you can _talk_ to me, right? I’m from the streets. I’m not _stupid._ I can read between the lines, I know what he did to you!» She hesitated. «And… My mother… She died four years ago, and it still hurts… So I don’t think you can be all that fine.»

Rage quickly flickered on Barbara’s face, something feral and hostile, followed by a mean grin that instantly turned into a forced smile and a desolate expression. Cat shrunk away.

«It… Is not the same, sweetie», the blonde explained in a sorrowful voice. «My parents… We were never very close. It’s sad that they died, but… It does not hurt me as you think it does.»

Yeah. Maybe not _‘as’_ , but there was something there, and whatever it was was not pleasant. You didn’t survive long in the streets if you didn’t have good instincts, and Selina’s told her to run.

«But _he_ hurt _you_ », she probed. «Didn’t he?»

«It was all in the news, Selina. There was _some_ torture. But Jim _saved_ me, didn’t he? I’m alright now. It was a, ah, _learning experience_.»

Barbara’s smile was dripping with venom there, though she tried to keep it saccharine. Cat’s unease grew, and she shifted away in her sofa. She still tried to talk, to reach the person used to know, under whoever _that_ was.

«There’s no such thing as ‘some’ torture. And it wasn’t just _torture_ , was it? The press didn’t say _much_ because the cops didn’t give them much, but that’s a guy who kidnapped women and kept them for months, and that wasn’t to have _tea_ , right?»

The blonde blinked, then figured out what Selina meant.

«No, no, Jason did not rape me», she said, with a reassuring smile and wide, innocent eyes. «He showed no interest in forcing me to do that.»

There was a subtle, half a second pause before that ‘forcing’ and Selina felt sick in the pit of her stomach, and prayed for that hesitation to have meant nothing. Barbara’s look wasn’t quite right either.

«Whatever happened, you know you can talk to me, right?»

«Don’t be silly, Selina. You’re just a little girl. You shouldn’t have to listen to things like that.»

Selina didn’t snap back at the ‘little girl’ thing, and tried to make a list of the people Barbara could talk to, of her friends, of her family. But Barb’ had no one. There was _Jim_ , but that reckless jackass had done enough damage already. And outside of Jim, zip, nada, no friends, no family. Cat had lived with the woman for weeks now, and the only person who had ever called the place had been a telemarketer.

«I still _would_. And if it’s not me, there’s doctors, maybe. But you’re not okay. You don’t sound okay. You don’t look okay.»

«I’m just fine. I’ve never been finer. What I am is _tired_ », Barbara finished, standing up. «I’m going to bed. Keep the TV volume low, will you?»

Cat nodded and watched her climb the stairs to her bedroom. Then the teenager ran to Ivy’s room and shook her awake.

«We can’t stay here», she murmured.

_«Wha-»_

«There’s something _wrong_ with Barb. I don’t think she’s right in the head. I don’t want you alone with her.»

The redhead sat in her bed, groggy with sleep.

«Wha’d’you mean?»

«I mean she’s _off_. Whatever that psycho did to her, it… She… She just doesn’t feel like Barbara anymore, okay? So tomorrow morning we go to the Flea and you stay there. I’ll find us another place to stay.»

«What about Barb’?»

«I’ll visit her. But we ain’t staying here anymore. No way.»

«But we’re good here!»

 _We were good_ , Selina thought. It had been great. They had a roof, food, safety, and an adult who genuinely cared about them. But Cat took pride in knowing how to recognize danger, and she saw plenty of red flags here. What she didn’t _see_ was the Barbara she knew.

«I don’t care, I’ll find us somewhere else good. Just _trust me_ , okay?»

Ivy nodded.

The next morning, Selina went to see Fish Mooney.

 

###


	4. Chapter 4

Getting to Fish Mooney was easy. She was recruiting. Sure, she did that under the cover of night, giving no name unless she was sure the people around were wrapped around her finger, but she was easy to track down. She would be out in the streets every night, gathering the orphans and the homeless, and bringing them to her hideout. The place itself was an abandoned warehouse in the Bowery, between a dozen others, in the most shabby corner of the run-down district. The families were not at war over _that_ territory. No one gave a crap about that area, that was too far from the ports and the stations to be of use. The buildings would have cost more to renovate than to demolish, and the land around it smelled of gasoline and lead poisoning.

There were sentries all over the place, though they were well hidden, but Selina spotted them easily. She avoided them, and made her way to the main warehouse, sneaking in through the broken second floor windows after scaling the crumbling brick wall. She took in the piles of food cans and bottles of water, took a few careful steps inside, and nearly lost her leg to a booby trap.

«What was that?» a guard called as he heard the clatter of the metal trap snapping shut on empty air.

The girl climbed on a beam and let the armed man come in, dropping behind him to get through the door. From there, she tried to make her way to Fish Mooney. She followed the corridor to stairs leading to a larger, two stories high room filled with people, that had once been the main storage facility. She heaved herself up to get back on a beam instead of going down the stairs. Underneath, there were mattresses lined against the walls, some of them occupied by kids, others by adults. There was a canteen a few steps away, and, a little farther, some of the recruits were learning to use weapons, under the tutelage of guards. As for the guards, there was one at every door. Selina stopped on her beam, square in the middle of the warehouse, and tried to guess what room Fish Mooney would have claimed for herself. There was an office at the end of the warehouse, at the top of some stairs, with large, mostly intact glass windows looking down on the entire place.

_Yep. Definitely a control room._

She crossed the rest of the warehouse and slid down to the floor next to the windows, listening to the voices inside the office. Fish was talking to her men, about defending the perimeter and doubling their patrols. Then she sent them away. Selina slipped in through one of the broken windows.

«Cat! I was wondering when you’d drop by», Fish said, making her jump.

The woman was sitting facing her, and had clearly been expecting her arrival. She had an amused smile, and gestured for Selina to come closer.

«How do you know my name?» the girl said, taking a step back.

«You have quite the reputation in the streets, for a start. And it just so happens that all of the fences in this town used to work for me.»

«Did they?» Selina mumbled, shifting from one foot to another.

«Yes. Also, you are the Wayne's murder witness.»

The teenager nearly bolted, but Fish Mooney snapped her fingers, which froze her dead in her tracks. The criminal chuckled.

«No need to scamper. The people who _care_ about that ‘incident’ have other preoccupations right now, and if we are lucky, they won’t get out of this gang war alive. Still, I feel like I should congratulate you for escaping those assassins. When Harvey asked for my help to find you, I was half expecting he’d arrive too late to save you. You’re resourceful.»

«Har… You were the one who sent _Pennyworth and_ _Bullock_?»

«Strange bedfellows, aren’t we, Harvey and I? You make the oddest friends in this line of business.» She shook her head. «He told me you didn’t need any rescuing, after all.»

Selina shrugged.

«I can take care of myself.»

Fish leaned back into her seat, still smiling.

«I know, girl. I never doubted that. Which begs the question: who needs to be cared for? I’ll go on a limb and assume you’re here for protection, but you wouldn’t ask that for yourself.»

«I have a friend. She’s a bit younger. New to the whole ‘homeless’ thing. Not that she can’t defend herself, but you can’t stab the weather.»

«I see.»

The woman studied Cat, with those unsettling eyes that would have made anyone crawl. The teenager was not about to be impressed by some weird transplant, however, so she puffed.

«What will it cost me?»

«Whatever you want, girl. I believe you heard me when I said I would _give_ my help to those who needed it, and only make soldiers of those who volunteered.»

Selina studied her back, from the strange eyes to extravagant make up, the crazy nails and the over-the-top clothes. More importantly, she tried to see _through_ the tiger stripes and into the person. Fish was strong. She was ruthless. She was dangerous. But was she a liar when she said she cared?

«What happened to Clyde?» she asked, remembering the fence who had tried to sell her - and Bruce - to hitmen. «I never saw him again.»

Fish paused and lifted an eyebrow.

«That’s a very good question.»

«And I know you have the answer, ‘cause all the fences worked for you, right?»

«Right.»

«So what happened to him?»

Fish idly tapped her seat’s armrest with one long, pointy claw.

«Clyde and I had a little chat. I seem to recall it went something like ‘darling, you are a _fence_. You sell the _goods_. You do not sell the _thieves’._ You know, to remind him of his job description. I mean, you have to be able to trust your fences, don’t you? Handing your thieves over to the highest bidder just sets a bad precedent. Not to mention I find selling young girls downright distasteful.» She clicked her tongue. «You start because that _one_ child has a price on her head, and what’s to stop you from selling another to organ trafficking rings, or into the sex trade? No, we can’t have that. So dear Clyde does no longer work in this line of business.»

Cat stared at her.

«He’s dead.»

Fish stared back.

«Yes.»

The woman did not elaborate, did not add further justification. She merely waited to see what Cat’s reaction would be. The girl felt a dull satisfaction, some long bottled venom having just found its way out of her. She had been waiting for Clyde to reappear. She had been ready to warn every kid who wanted to deal with him that he couldn’t be trusted. Organ trafficking and sex trade. Of course he would have. It wasn’t a matter of ‘if’. It was a matter of ‘when’.

Sometimes, you didn’t have a choice. Sometimes, the worst solution was the best. Safety always came at a cost.

«I don’t want to be a soldier», Selina said, making it clear enough that she would be staying.

«It’s alright. I find I really enjoy your company.»

 

###

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I'm writing so slowly lately =_=
> 
> Am I doing okay with Fish here?


	5. Chapter 5

Being Fish Mooney’s sidekick was a learning opportunity. Fish made sure of that.

Selina didn’t want to be a soldier, but she was taught how to use a gun all the same. Oh, she had tried to say «no, thanks, not interested», but Fish had clicked her tongue and tapped the workbench on which she had placed a shotgun and a Glock.

«You never know when a skill might come in handy, be it firing a gun, picking a lock, or flying a helicopter», she had said. «Never let knowledge go to waste. Now, let’s start with trigger discipline.»

So Cat learned, though the most important lessons were not always the ones that involved exercises and studying.

She spent a lot of time with Fish, and the sharp, teasing conversations they had were often more instructive than they appeared. Mostly, they taught you not to let the world hold you back.

«Fish doesn’t seem like an easy nickname», Selina once pointed out, as the criminal was tending to her make up, a task that took more than an hour every morning, and required regular touch-ups. «I mean, I can think of a _few_ jokes, and all.»

Fish laughed at that, putting her brush down and turning to Selina, who was sitting at the opposite end of the control room.

«Oh, but that’s the _point_.»

The teenager frowned at that, wrinkling her nose. None of the wisecracks she had in mind were very flattering, and she suspected Fish didn’t take kindly to mockery. The lady had a short fuse. Hell, back in her lieutenant days, she had been known as downright psychotic.

«It _is?_ »

Fish smiled and patted the stool next to her chair. The girl joined her, having learned by now that her employer only appreciated aloofness up to a point. The woman browsed through her collection of eyeshadows.

«When I first started out, one of Falcone’s underboss told me ‘you’re a little fish in a very big pond’», she said, picking a box. «Close your eyes.»

Selina did. A brush poked at her eyelid.

«And what happened?»

«Oh, I replaced him. But I kept the name.»

The teenager tried not to grimace as she felt powder being spread all over her eyes. It tickled. But she listened intently.

«See», Fish continued, «There is two way to react to insults. Either you punish them, either you own them. Hence the nickname. And so I ended up a ‘big fish in a little pond’, as they say.»

«I guess you did.»

«I absolutely did», Fish replied, taking the brush away. «And words never brought me down. Why should they? I know what I can accomplish. I don’t need a second opinion.»

She picked a second color of eyeshadow, and went for Cat’s eyes again. The girl took a deep breath and mulled over her words. Fish wasn’t one to let _anything_ bring her down. Not insults, not threats, not pain. For a woman who made so much use of her looks and charisma, she had a great many scars, including quite a few bullet wounds. Some of them looked like the lethal kind, yet Fish was still standing. Clearly, she remembered what fear felt like. She spoke about it in vivid detail when she recounted her childhood. But it looked like, to her, it was just a memory. She wasn’t scared of anything.

Cat wished she could be that strong. She had come a long way since her first days in the streets, but she wasn’t there yet.

«Here, done!» Fish announced, pushing on her shoulder so she would face the mirror.

Selina looked at herself. Her eyes seemed brighter, healthier, but you couldn’t really notice the make up. She had been expecting some rainbow mash-up, so she was pleasantly surprised. Fish chuckled at her puzzled expression.

«Make-up is a means to an end. It should bring out your advantages, and your advantage is youth.»

 _Why does everyone want to give me a makeover?_ the teenager thought. It reminded her of Barbara, and she stood.

«I-uh, have to go. I told a friend I’d visit», she announced. «I was supposed to drop by this morning. She’ll be worried.»

She knew she was deluding herself. The more she saw Barb’, the more she realized the woman lived in a brand new world inside her head, and not a pretty one. Cat had dropped by every day since she had left with Ivy, and she was very glad that the redhead was safely installed in Fish’s warehouse, with a knife in her pocket and guards everywhere ensuring there would be no fights and no danger. Sure, most of the people around were at least a _bit_ mentally ill and dangerous, but there was safety in numbers. There would be not one-on-one confrontation with someone about to snap.

An hour later, she exited the subway next to Barbara’s penthouse and climbed to her balcony. She froze as she heard Gordon’s voice.

«… sure you were alright. You’ll be dropping by for your checkup tomorrow, right?» he was asking.

«With doctor Thompkins, yes, I haven’t forgotten. Please thank her again, she’s been so nice to me.»

Selina peeked inside and saw Jim shifting from one feet to another, as if he’d been walking on hot coals. Barbara was smiling to him, but her eyes had that pinkish, wet look you got when keeping tears in, and her smile was poorly faked.

«I will», the cop replied. «She worries about you. I-»

He looked away for an instant, not quite managing to face his ex, but Cat kept watching the woman and saw her expression flicker. She caught the malice on her face.

«I know, James, but I’m fine. I’m absolutely fine. The hospital psychiatrist said so, didn’t he? Don’t worry about me», Barbara finished in the sweetest tone ever. «It’s hardly the first time I’ve been held hostage, and I learned how to cope the first time around.»

«We’ll discuss it tomorrow», Jim said, still not looking at her, which he should absolutely have.

«Yes. Ten in the morning. I’ll see you then.»

He nodded and turned away and walked to the exit. He clearly couldn’t wait to get the hell out, too much of a coward to face the consequences of his failing - again - to protect someone. Barbara escorted him, let him out, closed the door, and waited for a few moments.

Then she laughed.

There was nothing pleasant in that sound. There was nothing Barbara. Just ill will and cruel mirth. Selina ran.


	6. Chapter 6

People said there was safety in numbers, but truth was you could only rely on yourself. You  _had_ to only rely on yourself. You had to be strong. If you weren’t, the world would not miss an opportunity to crush you. You were never safe. You  _had_ to expect the worst from everything and everyone, or everyone and everything would use and abuse you. 

It sucked.

It made Selina so angry she felt about to snap, though she had to admit she was angry because she was in pain, and she was in pain because she was grieving. She hadn’t been _that_ close to Barbara, but the understanding that she was gone, that her mind had been broken by the Ogre, still hurt like hell. It wasn’t fair. She’d been supposed to be _safe._ She was just some high-society lady with a lavish, but normal life. She had a harmless, boring job where she wore fancy dresses to sell terrible drawings to rich idiots. She didn’t deal with mobsters nor fences. She had not talked to Gordon in months. Who the hell would have expected some good looking wealthy guy a charity ball to turn out to be a serial killer?

Cat was angry at Jim Gordon for not _warning_ them he was going after the Ogre.

She was angry at Barbara for being a victim.

She was angry at herself for failing to _notice_ the man was off. Maybe she had. She _had_. But that feeling had been hastily buried. She had other things on her mind, like Bunderslaw and Bruce.

No one had helped Barb’, and she had not been able to help herself. Fish was right when she said to never let knowledge go to waste. If Selina had told Barbara to «go for the eyes», maybe she would have been just a little bit safer. Maybe she would not have come back as a stranger. Maybe. Anyway, you had to be ready for everything. Cat had dragged Ivy to one of Fish Mooney’s men, who was good with a knife and liked to share tips.

«You see a knife and it isn’t in _your_ hand?» the man said. «You run. You throw shit at his face, you do what you have to do, but you run. Don’t you try to ‘block the blade’. The winner in a knife fight is always the one with the knife, and you’re in luck if you see the shiv before it’s deep in your gut. Now, you happen to be the one holding it? Stab the fucker in the groin. Or in the throat, straight behind the Adam’s apple, and you _pull_ the blade towards you.»

Ivy listened to that with a dubious expression. Selina filed it away for later, distractedly. She still heard Barbara’s malevolent laughter. She could picture the faraway look on her face. That same woman who had been so happy to arrange her hair and paint her face and made her twist and twirl in that silly ball gown. The one who had grinned and teased her and told her to have fun.

The teenager found herself staring into empty space, eyes _nearly_ wet, jaw clenched. A hand tousled her curls, making her jump.

«Aren’t you gloomy today?» Fish remarked.

Selina had been so lost in thought she had not heard her join them. The girl shrugged, and followed her mentor when she pushed her towards the stairs to the control room. Fish immediately went to sit at her makeup table.

«I’m going to need some help with this», she said, brushing her hair.

Cat sat on the stool next to hers and nodded.

«Okay.»

She waited as the woman played with her own hair, pulling it up, and left, and right. She kept it in place with pins and clips until it was a thorough mess, while Selina fidgeted on her seat.

«Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?» Fish asked.

The teenager shook her head. A few minutes passed.

«Someone I know is gone», she ended up replying.

«Gone?»

«Yeah.»

Fish kept tending to her hair, not turning from the mirror.

«What happened?»

«Someone _else_ messed up and she was collateral damage. She had nothing to do with it at all. Her ex put her in danger, she was attacked because of him, and now she’s… Gone. Not dead. But different. Not a good kind of different either.»

«Different, broken?»

«Different, ‘psycho’», Cat explained. «I’ve known people who act like she does now. No shortage of them in Gotham.»

Fish put her hairbrush down and turned to her.

«I’m sorry. I see what you mean, I’ve seen it happen a few times. Pain will do strange things to the mind. Some people lose themselves.»

«Do they ever heal?»

«Only if they want to. So, in my experience, no. Someone who snapped and went ‘psycho’ to resist pain rarely wants to go back to being weak and hurt.»

Selina pressed her eyelids together.

«Is there anything I can do?»

Fish stared at her but didn’t reply.

«What would _you_ do?» the teenager asked.

«Depends. Is whoever attacked her still alive?»

Cat shook her head.

«Well, then - depending on how much her ex-boyfriend fucked up - I’d have a chat with him to make him understand the errors of his ways.»

«Like with Clyde?»

«Not necessarily with as drastic a result. But it would _most certainly_ involve a baseball bat.»

A baseball bat was a bit excessive. Selina wasn’t even sure talking to Jim was needed. What was the point? He wouldn’t listen. But, as far as she was concerned, he could go to hell. He had failed too many people, and either he did not realize, or he did not care. She was done liking him. She was done thinking he was _maybe_ better than the rest.

She mulled over that for a while, and Fish Mooney returned to her hairdo. Selina jumped when the woman grabbed a clipper and shaved through the hair above her ear.

«What are you _doing_?» the girl exclaimed.

«It’s time for a change. And, as I was saying, I’ll need some help with this, if I want to get it symmetrical.»

Selina stared at her, eyes wide as saucers, but she still followed her boss’ instructions. Two hours later, Fish was sporting the ugliest mohawk in the history of punk hairdos and was propping it up with ungodly amounts of gel.

«What do you think?» she asked to an uneasy Selina.

«It’s, uh.»

That reaction got a hearty laugh out of Fish Mooney. She turned to the thief, eyes sparkling.

«You can say it.»

«I, uh, I’ve seen more flattering.»

«Ah. But it’s not _meant_ to be flattering. Beauty is a powerful weapon, and it has served me well. You», she added, lifting Selina’s chin, «should not hesitate to use it. You are _lovely_ , and it will turn men into imbeciles. That being said, in the current circumstances, I’ll benefit more from being _striking_ than from being pretty. One should _always_ be striking.»

Selina took a deep breath and rolled her eyes.

«I’ve heard something like that before.»

«And you haven’t believed it», Fish deduced, clicking her tongue. «It’s a shame. You already make good use of your appearance, don’t you? Be it to look tough, or to fade into a crowd. But you’re still a scaredy-cat. You don’t _enjoy_ when people look at you.»

Selina shrugged. It wasn’t recommended, as a homeless teenage girl, to attract stares. It tended not to end well. You _wanted_ to look either threatening or invisible.

«There’s real power to be found in appearances», Fish Mooney assured her. «In being the one person everyone’s eyes turn to. It confuses people. It distracts them. And, when you seem to be so sure you are above them, it makes them question themselves.»

It did work for Fish. Her confidence was overwhelming. She had so many men at her beck and call, and recruited more so easily.

«I guess you have a point», Selina mumbled. «Not sure _I_ can play that part.»

Fish chuckled.

«Well, let’s put the theory to the test. Today is a _special_ day. I’m about to confront my most powerful enemy and I’m sure - absolutely _certain_ \- that you can stun him just by walking in the room.»

«Most powerful enemy?»

«It might require some soldiering. But, really, this is a situation that can be handled by merely putting on a show.»

The woman stood and went to fetch a long black coat from a box nearby. She returned to Selina and wrapped it around her shoulders.

«Mind trying this on?»

The girl slid out of her jacket and put the coat on. It fit her perfectly, but of course Fish Mooney would have an eye for that.

«Most powerful enemy?» she asked again.

«Let us try something fancier with your hair», Fish replied, leading Cat to the makeup table. «And yes. Don Falcone was injured today, and I trust him to go straight to his safe-house… Which I happen to know about, since he took me there on more than one occasion.»

«We’re going to ambush him in his _own place_?»

Her boss started brushing her hair up, holding it in place with gel and hair spray.

«Yes, we are. We should be there well before he arrives. He’ll have to cross the whole city, see, and it’s not an easy task nowadays. He won’t want to be followed there.»

_«Don Falcone.»_

«Yes. I’m going to capture him, then deliver him to the most incompetent criminal in town. Then _our_ family will watch _him_ crash and burn - it should take three days by my estimation, if he makes it that long. Sal has no brains to speak of. And then, _we_ will fill the vacuum. No more Falcone. No more Maroni. _We_ will control Gotham, and I say we’ll do a much better job than they ever did. Are you in?»

Selina swallowed. It sounded insane, but Fish could do it. And Fish cared. The changes she would bring were sorely needed.

_A brand new day._

«I’m in.»

 

###

###

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is where the show resumes.
> 
> I hope I got the characterization right. I wanted to see how to explain Selina not only working with Fish (which I never doubted was possible), but being apparently okay with letting Jim be executed. 
> 
> What do you think?


End file.
